Stubbornella

Anyone that has lived abroad for more than a few years, understands fundamentally not fitting. When I moved to Paris, I expected it to be a culture shock, to really change my ideas. It’s natural, I had to learn the language, and more than that, figure out how to make my way in a culture with vastly different values and customs than my own. To my surprise then, the biggest not-fitting had nothing to do with my adopted culture, but rather the first time I returned home after truly becoming French somewhere deep in my core. It’s only then that you realize your instincts are off, you find odd those who share the culture you once considered as natural as water to a fish.

I’ve finally given in and tried it; it feels kind of dirty in a public sort of way. I haven’t started writing about every detail of my private life yet (did anyone else have Cheerios this morning?) and I’ve not yet purchased any ringtones but I feel certain that I’m on the path to internet righteousness; full disclosure, no-holds-barred – all the time. It gives me serious privacy concerns (basically there isn’t any). However, it did allow me to discover a great French rock band. So what the hell, I’ll trade privacy for good music. Well, I wouldn’t twitter even for Noad. That stream of consciousness stuff is what you are supposed to filter out, but I’m now officially on facebook, and I’ve even looked at few myspace pages.

Anyway, I won’t go into some detailed review of their music beyond just saying I like it. I find that French is a better language than English for writing really carefully crafted phrases. More precise when you want to say exactly what you mean like Noad. Of course the sound is what I really like; loud kick ass rock music with moments of calm. After nearly a decade playing together their music is tight enough to allow them to combine opposites. I particularly liked Columbarium, though it is challenging. Enjoy.

I had just gotten off of an Airfrance red eye from SFO to CDG. I was moving into a hundred person line at the taxi stand when I passed through a group of cops having a smoke. I really wasn’t coughing to make a point, I lived in France for four years, so obviously I know better, the air was simply unbreatheable.

Un site accessibles et un site inaccessibles peuvent paraître exactement les mêmes pour un utilisateur qui n’est pas handicapé. Il peut alors être difficile de comprendre les raisons de tout ce remue-ménage. Pourquoi est-il aussi important de tenir compte de cette accessibilité lorsqu’on conçoit et lorsqu’on met en forme des pages Internet ?

L’une des améliorations les plus importantes pouvant être réalisée pour l’accessibilité d’un site est une tâche qui échappera souvent aux rédacteurs. Ajouter du texte pour décrire des images permet aux non-voyants et aux déficients visuels d’accéder au contenu de votre page, mais écrire n’est pas forcément quelque chose d’inné. Les conseils énoncés ici vous aideront à débuter et à éviter les erreurs fréquentes.

The last two Fridays I met Christophe and his friends at El Diab’litho. It is a cool bar, friendlier than most in Paris, with a young crowed and good dancers. On Friday nights they have two courses, beginner and intermediate starting at 8h30 and 9h30 (verify times if you go because I’m not [...]

Nous sommes alles voir France vs Chypre a la Stade de France. Hugo a pris les tres bonne places, on etait a dix metre de Zidane!

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I just finished Sixty Million Frenchmen Can’t Be Wrong: Why We Love France but Not the French. Apart from the title, I found it really interesting. And actually, I think the authors love the French as well, even if sometimes they are delighted with them the way you would be watching monkeys sling [...]

Actually, we’ve only gone during the day, but there are some municipal pools open at night. We’ve discovered the Parisian pool system. There are three to four pools withing walking distance from our house, and many others that we could access with a short ride on the metro.
We bought a card for ten [...]

Last night I went to a gym, le Moving, where they have salsa nights on Fridays and Saturdays. Classes started around 9h30 though I think they were slated to start at 9. The entrance fee was 12€ plus 2€ for the vestiare. Drinks and snacks were included in that price. [...]

Hier soir, je suis allee a la Coupole pour faire deux cours du salsa avec Seve et Mouaze. Le premier etait un vrai cours debutant. Nous avons passes une heure entier sur les pates base. A la dernier minute il a rajoute un tourne super simple s’appelle la “Dile que no !“, [...]

I went to the last beginner salsa class at the Pachanga, it wasn’t nearly as hard as the classes at the latino cafe, but I was still way out of my league. They have a new beginner class starting next week, and hopefully I can start to learn all the basics that I’ve been [...]

I tried salsa dancing for the first time last sunday at L’Atelier.

Generally, Paris voted to ratify the Constitution, but not my neighborhood. Pinched between a university and low income housing towers, my neighborhood is comprised of exactly the demographic that pushed the Non to a 10% victory.

The dog park perspective

They are elated. They are throwing parties, and ostracizing friends who voted Oui. I am a bit sad, though I don’t say, because I would like a strong Europe to provide some kind of balance between the ambitions of China and the arrogance of the United States.

I don’t speak my mind because I find the no holds barred cage match style of French political discussions are not to my taste. But that has given me the chance to listen a lot.

J’ai vu Le Promeneur du Champ de Mars au MK2 Odéon. J’ai trouver l’histoire du jeune journaliste un peu pénible, mais en même temps nécessaire pour donner perspectif a l’histoire du François Mitterrand.

J’ai trouvée c’est petit phrase le plus impressionnant du film.

“Quelle est la couleur de la France? Non pas la couleur politique - je la connais - mais sa vraie couleur? le gris… Mais il existe une multitude de gris. C’est beau le gris. Gris des toits de paris, le gris historique de la guerre, le gris lavande de la provence. les gens qui n’aiment pas le gris sont des imbéciles…”

Julien and I went to the Swedish cultural center where we had a brunch of soup and split a sandwich. My orange saffron cake was delicious and the surprise of meeting le vieux et Yolene (sp?) was very pleasant. Hugo was incapacitated at home with a terrible flu that he would pass to me just after getting better himself.

There were some strange, not quite uni-colored paintings above the bar and table area. One in particular caught my eye. Julien m’a dit que c’etait une partie d’une exhibition de la galerie danoise, alors apres le brunch nous avons marches la pour voir tous le tableaux. C’etait une exhibition de Maadhat Kakei. Je n’ai pas aimee tous le painture, mais il y a quelleques une qui sont tres interessant. . .

Five mullets in three weeks. And not your trailer park mullet where your mom shaved the top of your head and left a line straight across the back where the long hair begins, no no, this is a Parisian mullet.
Its unisex, 3 out of 5 were women. So cute with [...]

Each team calls the other their meilleur ennemi, and their fans shout obsenities that are only common when you have heard them all your life. Football families and clubs reserve huge swaths of seats at the ends of the stadium and are known to be so rowdy, lighting fireworks, chanting, jumping, and swearing, [...]

One of our neighbors moved out rather uneventfully a few months after his wife left him and his apartment had begun to stink through the floor of cigarettes. A few times a little drunk in the elevator with strange women and poof he was gone.
Hugo was convinced it was mosquitos. One doctor was [...]

We went to la Fête de la Musique tonight. I have never seen Paris so exuberant. It was lovely. As nothing is ever done by halves in France, neither was this night. Over 300 bands played literally on every street corner. We arrived at Metro Palais Royale Musee du Louvre around seven, and saw a [...]